


It's In Me, In My Veins

by peachykoya



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Immortal Husbands, M/M, Rimming, Romance, Top Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27856009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachykoya/pseuds/peachykoya
Summary: It’s rushed and messy, lacking any of the finesse Joe’s mastered over the centuries. It doesn’t have to be perfect.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 12
Kudos: 131





	It's In Me, In My Veins

It’s not Malta. 

In fact, it’s a little seaside cottage, somewhere in Portugal. The nearest town, Sines, is about an hour away. The weather is nice, warm enough that they can drive with the windows rolled down as far as the hand crank will get them. They shudder dangerously when Joe pushes it too far. 

It’s not Malta. It doesn’t have to be. 

Their hair flutters in the wind, dancing, as they speed down the highway back to the private cottage where no one will find them. They have enough groceries and supplies to last a week, a guarantee that no one **would** come looking unless it were an absolute necessity. Vacations like this are rare; there’s always someone in need of help, some aspiring dictator making noise, always something to do. Always something to do, it leaves no space to just **be**. 

Every once in a while, they have to cut away a little time for themselves or the constant demand to “do a little good” would run them beyond depleted. 

So, no, it’s not Malta. But it doesn’t have to be. 

They push open the door to their modestly sized cottage and step into the singular room which serves as a kitchen and dining room. Tucked in the corner is a staircase which leads up to the bedroom and bath. But they don’t make it up the stairs because as soon as they walk in through the door, they’re on each other. Two magnets held apart by sheer will alone, finally allowing themselves to release the tension. It’s a flurry of lips, tongue, and teeth, both a little too fervent. A little too wound up. There’s a brief taste of blood on their tongues, unsure of whose it is, but it’s gone just as quick. 

Needy, pushy hands tear at clothing, of which there is not much thankfully. Matching linen shirts fall easily to the floor, soon joined by beach shorts. Nicolò looks up at his husband in surprise when he sees the lack of underwear. Yusuf answers with a cheeky grin and a snap of the elastic on Nicky’s tighty-whiteys, before dragging them down as he sinks to his knees. 

It’s rushed and messy, lacking any of the finesse Joe’s mastered over the centuries. _It doesn’t have to be perfect_.  
  
“Wait, wait,” Nicky gasps, breathless, red spreading across his cheeks and traveling down to bloom in his chest, stiffening his nipples until they stand out. Two dusky rosebuds against his rapidly rising and falling chest. A trail of sweat slips down between Nicky’s pectorals, drawing Yusuf’s attention along with it. 

They back up together in an awkward, uncoordinated shuffle. Nicky stepping backwards with shorts pooled around his ankles, Joe trailing along on his knees. They stop when they reach the dining table, Nicky’s butt hitting the edge of the wood. He places his palms on the flat surface, leans his head back, stretching out his neck, and sighs. 

Joe digs his fingers into the meat of his husband’s ass and thighs, and then he sucks. He showers Nicolò’s cock with attention, licks it, kisses it, worships it. Gives it all the attention he wished he could previously, when they were too busy for touches that lingered longer than a squeeze of their hands. He presses forward until the head bumps the back of his throat, making him sputter for just a moment.  
  
It’s not perfect. It doesn’t have to be. 

Nicky’s hips move as he rides the pleasure his lover gives him. 

“Mmm…” his eyes are squeezed shut, mouth pressed into a tight-lipped line. Force of habit when you share close quarters with your family. Yusuf reaches up and taps Nicky’s chin with one finger to remind the other man that it’s okay, he can make noise, before returning the hand to his hip. 

A sharp inhale as Joe pushes forward again, getting back into the practice, and kisses the base of Nicolò’s cock. The head kisses the back of Joe’s throat and twitches in delight. Much too quickly, heat pools in Nicky’s lower belly. He reaches down and tugs on dark curls in warning, but it’s not needed. Joe knows the signs, the deepening of Nicky’s breath, the aborted roll of his hips which mean he’s close. 

He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t pull off. He’s missed this, everything about this. The way Nicky feels on his tongue, the way he fills his mouth and leaves no room to even breathe, he misses the taste. Joe tightens his grip, leaves disappearing bruises under his fingertips, and swallows everything Nicolò has to give. 

He _lingers_. Breathing Nicky in, letting the sensation soak into his skin like a balm. When Joe finally pulls away, finally acknowledges the ache in his knees and lower back, he lingers. Kisses the vee of Nicolò’s pelvis, the quivering shaking thighs. 

His mouth is lonely already. 

It doesn’t _have_ to be. 

Nicolò drags him up by the elbows and then they’re kissing, pressed against each other and the table which is struggling to stay stationary. Yusuf’s still hard, and the reminder makes itself known, laying hotly in the dip of Nicolo’s groin. 

They stumble together upstairs, exchanging quick kisses as they go. They fall onto the bed and into each other’s arms, hands remapping well known and well-loved terrain. Sliding down toned muscles and soft flesh, wrapping around heated skin. 

Nicky moves first. 

He drapes himself over Yusuf’s chest, caging his husband in with arms and legs, leaning down for more biting kisses. But Nicolò wasn’t one to linger. He liked to see Yusuf’s reactions, liked how the curly haired man gave them so freely. 

Nicky trails down, pausing to bite at dark, stiff nipples, to kiss at a trembling belly button, to lave a hip bone with his tongue and teeth, keeping eye contact as he does so. Further down still, glancing at Yusuf’s cock for just a moment before moving past. 

And - _oh_ \- it had been a while since they’d done this. The two men hold each others’ gazes until it is impossible. Nicolò slips his arms underneath Yusuf’s waist and pushes until his husband is bent nearly in two, holding onto the backs of his own knees to help keep the position. 

Nicky spreads him open to wet the furled hole with his tongue, slowly working it open with attention. Just as Joe’s body begins to sag and the older man hums in content, Nicolò blows a breath over the dampened skin, causing his lover to groan and tense. 

“Tease.” 

“Mmm.” 

Nicolò’s teeth scrape lightly over the sensitive rim, followed by his tongue. Over and over, he circles, flattens his tongue and licks pulling away and blows. Until Joe is a shivering mess, cum rapidly drying on his belly after Nicolò reaches and tugs at the same pace as his mouth. 

“Good?”  
  
Yusuf laughs, “Incredible. Your mouth is magic, my heart.” 

The compliment settles like warmth in Nicky’s chest, making him smile as he pulls Joe’s ass into his lap. 

Nicolò rips the plastic around the new bottle of lube’s cap with his teeth, after laughing at the label which boasted a “tropical coconut aroma”. It’s supposed to be thematic. Joe hisses as the cool liquid is poured generously onto his warmed skin. 

They take their time, they have so much time, and relish the slow push and pull. The teasing drag and twists of fingers against a bundle of nerves, against a loosening rim. They both know when Yusuf’s ready, they’ve been doing this dance for years.  
  
Nicky kisses the side of his knee and pushes in. “I love you.”  
  
“I love you too.” 

He’s not one to linger, but he does so now. It’s a push and pull, like the waves crashing outside their cottage window, like the years they face together. Slow then fast, slow then fast. Slow then driving forward, all consuming, unrelenting. They dance together. Nicolò groans, low and throaty, as he bottoms out, slots their mouths together and they breathe each other in. Panting against each other’s mouths, sharing the air and tasting the electricity they’ve made in this small space. They rock against each other, giving and taking, pushing and pulling, the tide drawing back and rushing forward. It ends like a crash of waves, like a crack of lightning, bright and beautiful and strong. Joe comes between their bellies and Nicky comes deep inside, _comes and comes_ until all he can do is twitch and moan. 

“Stay,” Yusuf whispers, begging his husband to linger, to let it seep into his bones, into his veins. To wait and let them just be a mess. Clean up can wait. He wants to feel, do nothing, just **be.**   
  
Nicky stays. They fall asleep, wrapped in each other, the sound of the ocean outside the window lulling them to sleep, an old friend singing a song they know very well.

It’s perfect. 

It’s not Malta.   
  
It’s them. 

It’s _perfect._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Every kudo and comment is a diamond that I drop in my pocket and save for a rainy day. So please be sure to leave some below~
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](https://peachykoya.tumblr.com/)


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